John, what are these?
by TheFellowshipOfOreos
Summary: AU. Sherlock wakes up one day to find out that he had been transformed into a girl! He doesn't know what's going on, and neither does John. But if he's going to be a girl for a while; he might as well make himself comfortable. Sherlock is going to experience the things normal girls experience; but how is he going to react? Johnlock. Fem!lock. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Just thought I'd say, this is gonna be weird and funny, so don't be mean if you don't like it!**

**Disclaimer:** I do _not _own Sherlock and it belongs to its rightful owners. This is a figment of my imagination.

* * *

The sun rays started peering out from the shades in the bedroom, shining directly on John's face. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and threw his hand over Sherlock's body. It was a sunny Sunday morning, and Sherlock and John were still in bed. Sherlock was sleeping on his side, his back facing John's back. He sighed softly in his sleep and grasped the sheets in his hands, drawing them closer to his body and off of John.

"Hmm...good morning Sherlock," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

Sherlock moved and turned around to face John's back. He lazily opened one eye and smiled. "Good morning John."

John smiled contently and intended to catch a few more minutes of sleep, until he stopped dead in his tracks.

That voice... that voice was _not_ Sherlock's. It was soft and feminine, and it belonged to a woman.

"Oh my God," John screamed, jumping up from the bed and clutching the bed sheets around his body. "Oh my God, oh my God. No. I did _not_ cheat on Sherlock. How much did I drink last night?"

The lady in his bed turned around and frowned. She was about to speak up, before John interrupted.

"No, you have to leave. I don't know what happened last night, let's forget about okay? Please just get out."

"...John?" she gasped, tears in her eyes. "John? What's wrong with my voice?!"

John stared. "...Sherlock, is that you? What the _**fuck**_?!"

Sherlock sat up on the bed and screamed. He screamed and screamed for about 2 minutes, until his voice started breaking. His voice was high and quite feminine. He started hyperventilating, looking down at his body and back at John, his eyes bulging with pure terror. John, on the other hand, stood transfixed by the bedside table. He stared at Sherlock, wondering what the hell happened.

Sherlock was a _girl_.

A woman, to be exact. This woman, _Sherlock_, was the exact female version of his real body. She was tall and slender, her dark curly hair hung up to her shoulders; she had the same jaw and piercing eyes, her nose was smaller, she still had that soft, creamy skin and her lips were pink.

"John?" Sherlock finally croaked. "John, what happened to me? What's going on? Why am I...a female? Tell me I'm dreaming. Please tell me this is probably one of those crazy realistic dreams. Okay. Alright."

John stared again and finally shook his head. He carefully approached Sherlock and stood next to him.

"Um," he managed to say. "You're not dreaming. You're a girl. Ah. Okay."

He reached out uncertainly and touched Sherlock's hair. His hands ran up to touch her face, lightly touching her nose and eyes. He shook his head again, not believing what he saw.

"Stand up then," he said to Sherlock.

Sherlock paled, threw off the covers and stood up.

Oh, yes.

Sherlock was definitely a girl.

She had long, slender limbs and a flat stomach. Her figure was slender yet curvy, her creamy skin was untouched by any blemishes, and she was tall. Not taller than John (for once), but definitely tall.

Sherlock made a strangled noise in her throat and ran her hands down her body, pinching, feeling, and poking. Her face stayed blank and unresponsive, occasionally glancing back at John.

"John," she finally said, poking at her chest. "What are these?"

John gulped and managed to roll his eyes. "Sherlock, you know what these are. Those are, um, breasts."

"I have breasts," came Sherlock's calm reply. She cupped them, poking and balancing them in her hands. To John, it was embarrassing to watch, but to Sherlock, it was...fun. New. _Interesting_.

"They're soft," she said, giggling. "And bouncy. And kind of heavy. They feel weird, I'm not used to having a weight on my chest. Wanna feel?"

John chocked on his own saliva and shook his head. "Uh, no? I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yourself," she responded, feeling down her body again. She stopped moving when her hands ventured below the waist. "Hey, John?"

"Hmm?" he replied, forcing his eyes off of her body.

"I don't have testicles anymore," she whispered. She felt around again, gasped and looked up. "Oh my God. Well this is definitely _different_."

"Uh huh," John agreed, his face and neck turning a lovely shade of pink. "Look, Sherlock, can you not touch yourself in the middle of the room? It's embarrassing."

Sherlock scoffed but did as she was told anyway. "It's not like my female body disgusts you, I know very well you're bisexual, John. My body never repulsed you when I was male, and it sure doesn't repulse you now," she said, eying his pants.

John blushed again and cleared his throat. "No, it doesn't repulse me. But it's a little strange, okay? Last night we went to sleep and I'm pretty sure you were still a man. This morning I wake up and you've turned into a lady. Isn't it a little strange to you?"

Sherlock poked and prodded at her chest and nodded. "Well, of course. We'll find out the meaning of this later. But now, I need clothes."

John peered at her naked figure and reluctantly agreed. He walked over to his closet and took one of his shirts out and handed it to her. "This'll do for now." He rummaged in the closet again and came up with one of Sherlock's boxers. "And this will, too. Here you go."

Sherlock took the clothes, thanked him, and looked at him expectantly.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock rolled her eyes. "Turn around, don't look at me. Be a gentleman."

John sighed and turned around, waiting for Sherlock to dress. "There isn't anything I haven't seen before,"

"Yes, there is. Well. Not really, but you know what I mean."

John's face flushed again.

"I'm done, you can look now." Sherlock announced, turning around. "How do I look?"

John stared again. Sherlock was wearing one of John's button down shirts and boxers. She looked like...Sherlock. Herself. (Himself?) In a sense.

"You look like yourself, but, um, curvier. And feminine." he said truthfully.

"Do I look pretty, John?" Sherlock asked, grinning.

"Uh, yes. Very pretty. Argh, don't make me do this, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled again and started walking out of the room. "Well John, I know you liked my body before, so why not now? Anyway, come make me food, I'm hungry."

* * *

John quickly made toast and jam for breakfast, and he and Sherlock sat down to eat. Sherlock ate her toast very daintily, her fingers gracefully buttering the toast and her hand elegantly brought the toast to her mouth, where she chewed slowly.

"Well, at least your manners didn't change at all," John remarked, sipping his tea.

"Really?" Sherlock said. "Maybe not. Do I always eat like this?"

John nodded. "Of course. You haven't noticed?"

The detective shook her head. "No, not really."

They continued eating in silence. When they were done, Sherlock pushed his plate away and dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

"That was delicious, thanks."

"You're welcome,"

John stood to clear the table, while Sherlock brushed her fingers in her mop of curls.

"It's so _hot_," she complained, holding her hair up. "And this hair is making it no better. You have a rubber band, John?"

He nodded and rummaged in the kitchen cupboards. "Here's one,"

Sherlock expertly put her hair up in a bun and sighed contently. "That's better. Let's go shopping now,"

John stopped dead in his tracks. "_Shopping_?"

"Yes, shopping. At the mall."

"Why?"

It was Sherlock's turn to roll her eyes. "Let's see. I need clothes, and underwear, and makeup, and hair-things, and deodorant, and perfume...oh, and I need a bra."

John blushed and held his head in his hands. "You need undergarments?"

"Well of course, these ladies here aren't going to hold themselves up."

"Sherlock, I don't know how to do this. Are you planning on staying a woman?"

"No, of course not! I don't even know why I'm one in the first place, but I might as well make myself comfortable. Let's go shopping, please?"

"...Fine. I'll uh, how about you go back to our room and find something acceptable to wear, hmm?"

Sherlock happily obliged and skipped off to the bedroom. John sighed once again and quickly finished the dishes; and then, as he was about to put his shoes and coat on, the doorbell rung.

"_Shit_," John cursed, running to the door. "No no no no!"

The bell rung again, and John rushed to open it. Outside stood Mycroft, with his umbrella. He stared distastefully back at John and wrinkled his nose.

"Um, hello Mycroft," John said.

"John," Mycroft acknowledged. "I came to see Sherlock. Is he here?" He let himself in, and John followed after him.

"I, uh, no he is not."

Mycroft frowned and sat down on a couch. "Well where is he then?"

John touched the back of his neck nervously. "He went...on a...trip. Ah, yes. A trip."

"Where to?"

"Where to? Funny question. Uh, he went...on a trip...somewhere, he didn't tell me."

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaawn," a soft feminine voice rung out. "Who's here?"

"Oh," Mycroft's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know you had a lady friend over."

As if on cue, Sherlock padded into the living room. She had found a pair of jeans that fitted snugly (mind you, Sherlock's clothes were always tight) and was still wearing John's button down shirt. Her hair was neatly put into a bun and her face was clean and pink. She looked acceptable; she managed to look classy, even.

Mycroft stared at her. "Ah, okay. Pardon my staring, miss. You look...strangely familiar."

"Oh, really?" came Sherlock's reply. She smirked, twirled one strand of hair around a finger and smiled innocently.

Mycroft gulped and looked away. "Well, I didn't know John had any lady friends over, so I'll just-"

"Oh, no," Sherlock purred. "Please stay. I'd love to meet John's friends! Any friend of John is a friend of mine. I'm...Cindy, by the way."

Mycroft shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you. And you are John's-?"

"Oh," she giggled. "I'm John's niece."

"I didn't know he had any nieces," Mycroft turned to look at John.

"I have nieces? I mean, yes, I have nieces. Her name is Cindy. She's visiting from...Hungary! Ah, yes. Hungary. She just arrived last night, and we were on our way to the mall." John said, staring ferociously at Sherlock's direction.

"The mall, I see," Mycroft cocked his head. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice to meet you, Cindy. My name is Mycroft Holmes, in case you were wondering."

Sherlock pursed her lips and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Mycroft. Such a strange name...sounds so lovely."

Mycroft visibly blushed; and muttered a quick goodbye before dashing out.

When he was gone, Sherlock erupted in laughter.

"What was _that_?!" John asked, letting his breath go. He didn't realize he was holding his breath in until now.

"That was so fun!" Sherlock snickered. "I love this. Did you see the way he blushed? Foolish man! Oh, I love flirting, let's do it again!"

"No, we're going shopping. You obviously need clothes. And undergarments." John said, pulling Sherlock out the door.

"It was obvious the way he stared at my chest, hmm John? Jealous?"

John rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Sherlock."

* * *

3 hours later, Sherlock found herself in a fitting room stall, trying on dresses and clothes. John waited outside sheepishly, like a father might do for his daughter.

Except John wasn't Sherlock's father. He was Sherlock's boyfriend; his lover.

"Ohhh, John!" Sherlock squealed. "I love this shirt! And I have to get the matching skirt."

She came out of the stall and handed John dozens of clothes, then marched off to the perfume department.

"John, what do you think would suit me better? Sun-kissed apple cherry, or Vanilla Bubblegum?" she asked, smelling the samples.

John hummed for a while and then said, "Um, well, I like apples. And cherries, so I guess you should pick the first one. Which ever one you like."

Sherlock nodded her agreement and picked up a bottle of sun-kissed perfume, dropping it in the cart. She walked over to the lingerie department and winked at John.

"Hey, Jaaaawn!"

John sighed and muttered, "What?"

"Which color would you like on me?"

"Sherlock, not so loud!" John yelled-whispered. "There are other people in this store!"

She scoffed. "So what? Would you prefer this in black," she held up a black lingerie set. "Or in red?"

"In black," came John's muffled reply, as he rushed to the cash register. "Please, let's just go."

So they quickly rung up the items and left the store with Sherlock's new clothes. She talked all the way home; in the cab, in the street, and outside their flat.

When she had put her clothes in her closet, and picked out an outfit to wear, John was already in the living room about to take a nap.

"John?" she whispered, creeping closer. He turned around to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I need to urinate," she said, moving on her feet uncomfortably.

"So, pee." came John's reply.

"I...don't know how to."

"Sherlock, come on. You know how to pee!"

"Yes, but not sitting down! I only pee standing up! Well, sometimes I sit down, but that's in the morning when you know...things are not so flexible."

John chocked back a chuckle and they walked to the bathroom. "Just sit down and, uh, relax your muscles." He turned around while Sherlock sat down on the seat.

"Ew, I feel weird," she said, wrinkling her nose. After a few seconds, she sighed happily. "But at least I peed. Thanks." She quickly washed her hands.

"I'm going to go take a nap," came John's reply. He walked to the bedroom, Sherlock in tow. John settled himself on their bed and turned off the light.

"I'll take one as well," she said, settling herself on the other side of the bed. She snuggled up to the man; John tensed up momentarily and then loosened up.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, John?" she asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. "You know it's not my fault I'm like this."

John hushed her and kissed the top of her head. "No, not at all. I'm just not used to having you like this, you know? How do you feel?"

Sherlock thought for a while before replying. "I feel...soft. And really light, I'm not as heavy as I used to be."

John scoffed and started laughing. "Sherlock, you were a twig back then as you are now!"

"Well," she said, grinning. "I feel different. There's this massive weight on my chest, and my boxers feel really loose, and I feel so small and fragile. My hair's soft and long and too hot on my neck...but other than that, I'm fine."

"We'll get to the bottom of this, alright?" John promised. "Go to sleep."

Sherlock snuggled closer to John, closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

**Please read and review, I want to hear your comments! Nothing mean, please! And lol of course it's supposed to be weird and awkward and funny! It's not a serious fic! :) Chapter Two coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

3 days later, John was having his breakfast and eating it in front of the telly calmly. He was watching some idiotic show, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. He just needed some background noise while he waited for Sherlock to come and join him for breakfast.

"Jaaaaaawn!" came Sherlock's voice from the bathroom. She had been in there for the past 30 minutes, showering and getting dressed.

"What?" John called back, sipping his cup of tea.

"John, come here please!"

He sighed and set his cup down, and walked to the bathroom. Steam was coming out from under the door and the water stopped running. "May I come in?"

He could hear her scoff. "Don't be daft, John, of course you can."

He opened the door and stepped inside, a gust of warm damp air hitting his face. Sherlock was in front of the mirror and had a towel around her face. She struggled with her bra strap and turned to John.

"I don't know how to put this on."

"What makes you think I know? I'm clueless about girls!"

"No, you're not," Sherlock rolled her eyes. "Just find a way to help me put this on, my hands hurt from all the trying."

John approached her and grasped the straps in his hands. He tried at least three times to fasten the straps, and when he succeeded, Sherlock sighed thankfully.

"Finally! I don't know how women can do this everyday. I certainly can't."

"I know, but I guess once you get the hang of it, you'll be fine. Anyway, I've made tea, care for a cuppa?" he asked.

Sherlock grabbed a shirt. "Yeah, some tea would be nice. My stomach hurts like _hell_. Why d'you think it's doing that? I've never really had stomach aches before."

John walked out and Sherlock followed in tow, fixing her hair while she walked.

"Well maybe you ate something bad lately, I don't know." he responded, sitting down and handing Sherlock his tea.

As soon as Sherlock's lips touched the cup, the doorbell rung. Her eyes suddenly twinkled mischievously and she chuckled. "Probably Mycroft,"

She rose up from her seat despite John's protests and walked to the door, slightly swaying her hips. John couldn't help but look and he felt his mouth go dry. Sherlock opened the door and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

"Hello, I'm here to see-"

"Ohh, I remember you!" she squealed before Mycroft had the time to talk. "Mycroft, is it?"

Mycroft looked perplexed for a second before he blushed slightly and nodded.

"Of course! I couldn't forget your lovely face if I tried. Are you here to see Sherlock?" she asked.

John noticed how strange she sounded saying her own name. She probably wasn't used to speaking about herself, and her voice sounded different as soon as she uttered her name.

"Yes, I am," came Mycroft's reply. "Is he here?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, love." Sherlock pouted her lips. "He hasn't come round for a while. But he called last night and informed us that he was in France."

"In France? What in _heavens_ is he doing there?" Mycroft asked, frowning.

"He said he was with one of his lady friends. What was her name again? I forgot, but if you want I'll ring him up again and ask him."

"Sherlock doesn't have any **_lady_ **friends," Mycroft said, sneering. "He barely has any friends. But I'm glad he's with a lady and not with a man. Been spending too much time with other men lately, and it's good to hear that he isn't at least **_gay_**." he uttered the word like it was a sin.

Sherlock's eye twitched slightly but she quickly smiled. "Well why don't you come in for a while then? I'll set the kettle for some more tea."

Mycroft grinned and thanked her, walking in the flat. He set his umbrella down and greeted John stiffly, taking a seat opposite him. Sherlock quickly followed with a cup of tea and some sugar.

"How much sugar would you like?"

"I'll have five cubes please,"

"Hmm...you like things sweet, don't you? I like that." Sherlock winked seductively and dropped five sugar cubes in the cup. She cackled internally at Mycroft's blush.

She sat down next to John and they sat in silence for a while.

"So," Mycroft began, clearing his throat. "How do you like it here, Cindy?"

Sherlock didn't respond due to the fact that she wasn't used to being called Cindy. She continued sipping her tea and scrolled down her messages on her phone.

"Cindy?"

"**_Cindy!_**" John finally poked her.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, looking up all innocently. "I was just going through some messages. John got me this phone yesterday, isn't it lovely?"

Mycroft nodded. "It is. I remember Sherlock had one just like it. I was asking if you like it here,"

"I love it! The weather can be quite dreadful at times and it's quite cold, but I love it here. But John hasn't been taking me to places and always making me stay at home," she answered with a pout.

"Is that right?" Mycroft asked, lifting an eyebrow. "John hasn't been taking you out?"

"No, he's so boring. Always stays at home awaiting texts from his dear...friend, Sherlock," she said, straining the word 'friend'. She quickly glanced at John and winked.

John's cheeks and neck were pink and he cleared his throat.

"I have not," he protested. "I haven't used my phone in ages."

"Really? Well your phone has been buzzing quite a lot at night, hmm Johnny? Getting quite a lot of messages are we then?"

John was mortified, staring daggers at Sherlock's direction. He pulled out his phone and furiously texted her, knowing well that her phone was on silent.

* * *

**SHUT UP YOU IDIOT! YOU ARE SO GETTING IT WHEN YOU'RE BACK TO YOUR REGULAR BODY. -JW  
**

* * *

"Well, there's your phone, John," Mycroft said, obviously embarrassed at Sherlock's earlier comment. "You probably should put it on silent, so it won't keep...ah, 'vibrating' at night."

"No, I assure you that it won't be." John replied, smiling stiffly. He watched as Sherlock picked up her phone.

She almost giggled and replied to John's message.

* * *

**Am I? Can't wait then.** **-SH**

* * *

Looking up from her phone, she discretely blew a kiss at John and turned to Mycroft.

"That was just my friend Cynthia. She lives here actually and we were planning on visiting town today, but unfortunately she can't make it. And grumpy old John won't take me."

"Well...I can take you if you want, Cindy." Mycroft said, twiddling his thumbs. "I mean, you don't have to say yes or anything, but you know, since I figured she won't take you and neither would John, and I have some free time on my hands today, I could take you."

Sherlock smiled (to be honest, that smile almost made two hearts stop in the room-both Mycroft's and John's). "Will you? Thank you so much Mycroft! When can we go?"

He looked at his watch and hummed. "Well, is 2:00 P.M good for you? I have an errand to run and I'll be right back to pick you up."

"It's perfect!" she said. "Thank you so much My! Can I call you that? Is that okay?"

Mycroft nodded, a little too nervous to be getting so much attention from her.

She made a happy sound and stood up and walked over to where he was sitting and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later then," she said, walking away, leaving a very confused and dazed Mycroft.

Once she was in her room, Mycroft looked over to John.

"Did she just kiss me?" he asked.

"Technically it was just a peck on the cheek, but, yes." John almost rolled his eyes at Mycroft's reaction.

Of course, a kiss from the one and only Sherlock Holmes was a gift on its own. John gets _so_ much more than just a friendly peck on the cheek, and knowing that made him gloat. If only Mycroft knew what has happening. If only he knew what John and Sherlock did in their spare time, even though the fact would make a dead man blush. Mycroft had no idea that the kiss he just received was from his brother and he had no idea what was coming for him.

"I like your niece, she's nice." Mycroft said as he stood up. "Bring her here more often, would you?"

And with that, he walked out of the flat, carrying his umbrella. As soon as he was a block away, John stood up.

"**_SHERLOCK!_**" he yelled, running to the room. He barged in and found her sitting calmly on the bed, her hands together and underneath her chin.

"No need to yell, John. I'm right here,"

"What was that? Why did you tell him all those things?! Why the _hell_ did you just arrange a date with your brother?! Oh my God. Oh my **_God_**, Sherlock!"

She chuckled softly. "It wouldn't take a trained detective to see what's going on here, John. He's obviously attracted to me, as disgusting as it sounds. And I want to play. So I figured arranging a date would be..._fun_."

"You don't play with human beings, Sherlock!" John sighed, feeling as he were explaining this to a toddler. "And he's your brother for goodness sake!"

"I know," came her calm reply. "I'm not going to kiss or make out with him, John. I won't even let him take me home. I assure you that I am not going to commit incest."

"Then what are you going to do?!"

"...Play. Experiment. Have fun. I want to know what makes a woman attractive to men, John."

"And why in the world did you bring up my phone buzzing at night?! It sounded like I was playing with a _vibrator_ or something of the sort!" John said, mortified.

Sherlock smirked miscellaneously. "Oh, John. I know what you did. Those months before we started seeing each other and dating, don't you think I heard those noises coming from your room at night? By the way, as soon as I'm back to a male, you better show me all your toys."

John blushed terribly and held his face in his hands. "That was my phone," he mumbled, trying to find an excuse.

"I know very well you turn off your phone at night, John. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Sherlock winked again.

John held the bridge of his nose. "You know what, fine. Go 'play' or 'experiment' or whatever you call it. Just don't do things you'll regret."

Sherlock laughed. "I already did! I kissed him on the cheek. He was sweaty and smelled weird, and let me tell you I am _not_ kissing him ever again. Yeugh. The thought of kissing my own brother makes me sick."

"But you did it." John reminded him.

"I did. Not again will I _ever_."

"Good, because I'd like to think that you still want me, Sherlock."

Sherlock sat up and went to hug John.

"I'll always want you, John. Always, even as a...female. Okay? Don't ever worry."

John hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. "Alright. Go, be my niece. You have a date with your brother."

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock dabbed on a last layer of lip gloss and licked her lips. Checking herself one more time in the mirror, she turned around and smiled at John.

She wore a deep royal blue dress that contrasted beautifully with her eyes, and she had her lovely hair in a bun. Sherlock experimented with a bit of makeup she had forced John to buy, and somehow she managed to make it work.

"How do I look?"

John gaped. He stared and opened his mouth a few times, before answering.

"You look...stunning. You'd look even more stunning if you weren't _going out on a date with your **brother**_."

Sherlock snorted and turned to look at John. "Well, I'll have you know that it isn't my fault if Mycroft wanted to go out with me. I can't help it if I'm attractive. I'm obliged to say yes."

She blew a kiss towards her reflection in the mirror and walked to the living room, John in tow. She took out her phone from her purse and looked at John. "You have Mycroft's number?"

John nodded reluctantly and handed her his phone. She quickly texted Mycroft.

"There we go," she said, smirking. "All we have to do now is to wait for the bear to fall in the trap."

John scoffed. "Depends if the trap has any cake in it."

"Oh my God," Sherlock laughed. "You're so mean to him, John! Be mindful that he's still my brother!"

"Yeah, whatever. I'm just not comfortable with you going out on a date with him."

"John," Sherlock said. "I won't let him touch me or kiss me or even buy me dinner. I'm yours and yours only, okay?"

"...okay."

The doorbell suddenly rang and Sherlock jumped to her feet. She ran to the door and opened it, smiling when Mycroft's face looked back at her.

"Hi Mycroft!" she squealed. "Finally you're here!"

Mycroft smiled back. "Good afternoon. Are you ready?"

Sherlock nodded and looked back at John. "I'll be back before you know it!"

"Eh, wait just a minute." John approached Mycroft and looked at him square in the eyes. He tried his best to look menacing (but in reality he just looked like a little hedgehog.) "I don't need to ask you to behave yourself, she's **my**..._niece_, remember that."

Mycroft nodded. "Of course. I'll have her back around 8 P.M."

Sherlock waved at John and she closed the door.

The two of them started walking towards Mycroft's car. It was a sunny day for a September afternoon and a nice breeze was blowing through.

"Where are you going to take me?" Sherlock asked as they approached the car.

"Well I was thinking you'd like to see the National Gallery of London. Or maybe the Tate Modern, if fine art and museums interest you. But maybe the London Eye would be more to your liking?"

"What's that?" Sherlock played dumb.

"You'll see," came Mycroft's cocky reply. He grinned and opened the door for her.

They entered the car, and the driver started driving. "Where to, sir?"

"London Eye. And take the smaller roads please, we want to avoid traffic."

The driver nodded and took a turn. Mycroft turned to Sherlock and smiled.

"So, how are you finding London?"

Sherlock giggled. "It's beautiful! And I'm going to find it even more beautiful after you take me touring. I want to see _everything_!"

"Oh, you won't be able to see everything, but I'm sure we'll have fun." Mycroft promised.

* * *

Five hours later, Sherlock waved goodbye to Mycroft's car and entered the flat.

"John, I'm home!" she called out.

John came out of the kitchen with two steaming cups of tea. He set them down on the coffee table.

"Mycroft didn't come to say bye?" he asked.

"No."

"Rude! I would have expected him to have a little bit more courtesy and manners, you know."

Sherlock removed her hair from the restricting bun and sighed. She jumped on the couch and stretched. "Mycroft doesn't have manners. The only good thing he's good for is eating cake."

"Now you're just being rude." John laughed at Sherlock's comment and handed her a cup of tea. "So how did it go?"

She sipped her peppermint tea and hummed. "Could use a bit more sugar here, John. Oh, the touring? It was alright, nothing I've never done before." She blew on her tea and took a sip again.

"He kept his hands off you, right?"

"Yes, John, he did. I'm not letting my brother touch me."

"Good, otherwise I would've ripped his balls of," John said calmly. He sipped his tea and sighed contently.

"Hmm...John, I feel like I need to pee...I feel strangely uncomfortable down there." Sherlock wrinkled her nose and stood up.

"Sherlock, we've been over this now. Just go to the bathroom, I'll wait here."

Sherlock walked quickly to the loo and closed the door behind her.

John sighed once again, and turned on the telly. There seemed to be nothing interesting; news, news, oh look an idiotic sit-com...news, news-

"**_JAAAAAAAAWN!_**" Sherlock's scream echoed throughout the flat.

"What?" he called back, turning down the volume on the telly.

"John come here please, _oh my God_!"

John set down his cup of tea and ran to the bathroom. He knocked on the door.

"Are you okay in there?"

"No!" she screamed. "Open the damn door John I'm dying!"

John opened the door and saw Sherlock sitting on the toilet. He blushed and almost looked away before Sherlock yelped.

"John, I'm bleeding." Sherlock whispered, sniffling. "I think I'm gonna die. Oh my God I'm pregnant. I probably have cancer. Oh my God John!"

John stared.

"Why the hell are you just standing there for?! Call the damn ambulance!" she screamed again.

"Erm, Sherlock? You're menstruating." John stared at Sherlock as he tried to explain.

Sherlock gaped dumbfounded. She tried to say something but her mouth was dry, and she found herself almost crying.

"What?"

"You're...menstruating. Ah. Okay."

"The hell I am!" she responded. "That only happens to girls!"

"...you are a girl, Sherlock. A woman, to be more exact. It's a thing women do."

"I don't want to!"

"I'm afraid you don't have any choice," John tried to comfort her, but in reality he was as scared/freaked out as Sherlock.

Sherlock sniffled again. "Does-does that mean I'm a woman forever?" she asked in tears.

"I sure hope not."

"How long is this gonna last? You should know, right?"

John thought for a while. "Around 5 to 7 days. But it could last as short as 3 days,"

"Are you kidding me?" Sherlock screeched. "7 **days**? I thought this thing lasted for a few minutes, a few hours tops! Not _days_!"

"Come on now Sherlock, you're familiar with the female reproductive system. You're not ignorant."

"Why the hell does it have to last for days?! I know I'm not pregnant after a few minutes thank you very much!" Sherlock shifted on the toilet. "How am I going to take care of it?"

John blushed. "Ah. I'll have to dash and get you some sanitary napkins, or tampons if you prefer."

Sherlock's eyes bulged. "Tampons?! Isn't that the long pencil-shape thing you shove up there to catch..." her voice turned low. "...the _blood_?"

"Um. Yes."

"Like _hell_ I'm shoving a thing down there! You get me those square-ish things I keep seeing on commercials on the telly."

"...sanitary napkins?" John suggested.

"Yes, those, whatever they're called. Hurry John, I'm practically flooding the toilet here!"

John nodded and left Sherlock in the bathroom. He grabbed his coat, pulled on his shoes and hurried out the flat.

He walked for about five minutes before he arrived at the pharmacy. Rushing in, he ran to the hygiene section and grabbed three boxes of sanitary napkins, then dashed to the check out.

The cashier was a young teenage girl. She chewed her bubble gum and stared at John weirdly as she rang up the items.

John payed quickly and practically ran home. When he arrived at the flat, he grabbed a box from the bag and went to the bathroom.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock opened the door and John entered. He found her still sitting on the toilet, newspaper in hand.

"What? I had to entertain myself. Took you long enough." she replied. "I'm flooding the toilet with blood, John."

John wrinkled his nose. "Ew, don't say that. Here," he handed her the box.

"How am I supposed to use this?"

"Just...read the instructions, I don't know. I'll be outside." John patted Sherlock reassuringly on the back. He closed the door behind him.

After a few moments, John heard Sherlock sniffling again in the bathroom.

"This is disgusting." Sherlock finally opened the faucet and washed her hands. She came out of the bathroom and crossed her arms.

"I don't want it, make it go away," she whined, walking over to their bedroom and jumping on the bed.

John yelped before he could help himself. Sherlock then looked at John and rolled her eyes, smirking at his reaction.

"I'm not going to _bleed_ on our bed John," she said, giggling.

"I never said you would," John tried to defend himself.

"I feel like I have a boat in my underwear," Sherlock smiled up at John. "And I'm hungry. I want cake. Hmm, yum, and biscuits. But they have to be fresh out of the oven. And I want ginger ale and brownies and maybe a cuppa or two, yeah?"

John nodded and kissed Sherlock's head. "Of course, anything you want. And I'll get you a hot water bottle while I'm at it. You just lay down and rest, okay?"

Sherlock smiled and nodded and flopped down on the bed.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED! Comment please :)**


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